Trick or Treat
by Gemenied
Summary: It's Halloween at Chez Boyd...


A/N: This little piece wrote itself in very short time - and I blame a line from ShadowSamurai83's "Trick or Dead" for it. So, this is a little bit of Halloween fun - not to be taken seriously at all - and I hope you enjoy it. Many thanks go out to Shadow for the beta too.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Trick and Treat**

"Daddy! Come on or we'll be late!" The voice was shrill and if Boyd hadn't loved this voice so much, he would have just thrown a grump and ignored it. As it was, he loved the owner of that voice to death and therefore rolled out of his comfortable position on the sofa to answer the summons.

"I'm coming. I'm coming."

"No, you don't. But maybe later?" This other voice, much darker and huskier, came from a dark corner of the den and he had to look twice to recognize her frame in the shadow.

"Is that a promise?" he asked back, pitching his voice low. In this house, you never knew who was outside a door listening to things they shouldn't.

And...right... "Mel! Mel! Mum and Dad are making kissy noises! You're not going trick and treating! You gonna miss it and the others kids get all the sweets!"

The two people in the room stopped in their tracks, closed their eyes, and heaved a sigh respectively. Then there was a very quick motion that unfortunately didn't come soon enough, for there were hysterical screams coming from the hallway.

"He promised! Daddy promised!"

Action stations! Action stations! Major tear and tantrum alarm!

Rushing out of the study, Boyd stormed down the hallway to the door and stopped dead in his tracks. By the front door was something about four feet high and it looked a fuzzy, ghastly pink. Somewhere around the top end of this pink mass was a round space and it was tomato red and tear streaked. Dropping to his knees with an inward groan, Boyd gathered the quivering mass and mess into his arms and made soothing noises.

"It's all right, sweetie. It's all right."

"You promised, Daddy! You promised!" For all it was worth, the girl inside the pink mess looked like she wanted to stamp her feet to strengthen her demand.

He pulled back, swallowing his smile. The force was with them, in a pig-costume. How and why he couldn't exactly fathom, but he hadn't been there for the purchase of the costume and would be paying the price. If Mummy had bought the costume, Daddy had to go out trick and treating.

He wasn't exactly looking forward to it, would probably look completely daft, especially if he had to don the costume Grace had picked out for him. Escaping that was unlikely. Behind the entire Halloween-action there was a 5-year old force in pink and 7-year old pirate. And there was a forceful woman behind all that who was just now scolding said pirate.

How that lovely husky voice could change when she was mad.

Looking over his shoulder, he wondered if she had deliberately done the costume shopping to get out of the actual tour. Or if she just wanted to embarrass him. A Zorro-costume...come on. He had a reputation to uphold.

Of course, nobody in the neighbourhood believed in his reputation as the big, bad police officer. Mel had well and truly sunk that one. One tear from her and he turned to mush. Which was pretty much the case now. In fact, he was a puddle of goo with the little one who had a tiny arm wrapped around his neck. The cheap artificial fibres of the costume bothered his nose and he'd probably have to sneeze in a second, but for the little one, he'd endure it.

The things he did for those terrors and their irresistible mother...

"Have I made myself absolutely clear, Spencer?" The force of the question brought his attention back to the scene a few feet down.

The boy was sulking, his mother frowning. "I expect an answer, young man."

It remained silent, apart from the occasional sniff from Mel. It was only reflex as she was now much too focussed on the exciting scene her brother and mother were playing out.

"You have one minute, young man, or you go upstairs to your room and stay there for the night."

That got a reaction. "But, Mum?" he whined.

"Yes?"

"I will, Mummy," the boy finally relented.

"Good." His wife smiled and leaned down to peck their son on the forehead. Actually on the bandana he was wearing and which would later be covered with the pirate hat.

Smiling to himself, Boyd gave his wife a wink, once again surprised how easily she handled the situation. Seemed like all that professional training did come in handy, though he didn't really want to think how she used that on him. She had him wrapped around her fingers in any case. Just like she had the kids. All three of them.

Speaking of three...

"Frankie! We're waiting for you!" With her mother's voice resounding through the entire house - where did she pull this much volume from - there was silence at first, then the sound of clumsy, careless, trampling footsteps.

"Ready!" their oldest announced as she bounded down the steps.

Boyd did a double take.

"That's your costume?" Mel asked in innocent disbelief.

"Yeah," her older sister announced. "I borrowed your glasses, okay, Mum?"

What could have turned into a long silence was interrupted right away when Grace quickly snapped her glasses off Frankie's nose. "I need those."

"Not for your costume," the girl cheekily replied.

"Costume?" Everybody else perked up, Boyd in more ways than one, considering that Grace was...blushing would have been saying a little too little. She was beet red in the face.

"I don't have a costume. And neither do you, young lady. Going out in your everyday clothes is not considered a costume."

"It's inventive," the 11-year old replied, still grinning cheekily.

"It's boring." Spencer declared.

"No, dressing up like every other boy in the neighbourhood is. But you are just a little kid, you wouldn't know."

Seeing the storm gathering on his wife's face, Boyd quickly grabbed coats and hats and then ushered the three kids out in the street. Just before she could close the door behind them, he fell back and whispered to Grace. "Costume?"

With a promising grin, she shrugged and whispered back, "Get this lot tricking and treating and then into bed. We'll see what I can do then."

Well, that was all the incentive a man needs, right?

* * *

They had been talking about a number four, but after two hours in the stone cold October air, drudging after three overly excited children who couldn't decide whether they wanted to know him or not, and actually only remembered him to carry more and more of their stuff, Boyd decided that three consisted of a house full of children and that was definitely enough.

The production was a hell of a lot of fun, but you were stuck with the product for...a very long time.

He left the cleaning up business to Grace - it wasn't exactly nice, but he was knackered - and removed himself to the somewhat peace and quiet of their bedroom. Through the open door and walls, the squeaks and screams were muted and he thanked his lucky stars for that. Thank God they didn't have a cat or a dog, he was just thinking, when there was a wet tongue rasping over his hand.

Startled, he shot up into a sitting position and stared into the soulful eyes of a black dog.

"Grace!"

Then he remembered. They were dog sitting this weekend too. Grace's friend Eve had searched for a place for her pet while she was God knows where...and being the big old softie he was, Mel and Frankie only had to throw him their best imitation of puppy dog eyes and he was mush and agreed. He honestly suspected that it had had more to do with Grace batting her eyelashes at him - she could do that so bloody well, which was why they already had three kids - and so, Felix was here for the duration.

Add to that Stella the cat they had somehow been adopted from a friend of Frankie's, and the zoo was complete. He should really start to grow some self-control.

At the moment, however, it was gone and he shouted again. "Grace!"

His shout didn't help, instead aggravating the dog who started to bark. Which led to more commotion and finally, his wife barrelling into the bedroom, a naked and wet Mel hot on her heels. Spencer, already half in his pyjamas, but still with the bandana on his head, followed.

Both kids snickered. Grace too, but he was too busy glaring at the children who quickly scurried out again, the dog following them, barking heavily. With his attention no longer diverted, Boyd took a good look at his wife. And swallowed, his excitement moving to...different...body parts.

"Is Mel getting her bath or you?" he teased gently, his eyes raking up and down her very wet, front.

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. "Save that thought, Zorro. And pick up some energy. I might still have a costume lying around."

With that she retreated, but stuck her head in again with a frown when he wolf-whistled after her. "What?"

"Fell into the tub?"

Grace dignified that with a dismissive hand gesture and then rushed towards the screams coming from the family bathroom. With the tears and the scolding that followed, Boyd sighed. At the rate this was going, it would be two in the morning before Grace had a chance to come to bed and then they'd both be too exhausted.

Why did he want a big family again?

Oh yeah, he remembered. He liked producing it so much.

Maybe the guys who took the snip had a smart idea?

* * *

"Hey Zorro." The voice that somehow drifted into his subconscious sounded as tired as he felt.

"They finally asleep?" he mumbled and stretched his hand out to find her arm.

"They pretend successfully, at least," came the muffled reply. "Why did we get three kids?"

"Because it was so much fun making them," he smirked, slowly rising into consciousness.

"You always say that and it's not convincing any more." She paused, then stopped his hand from moving on. "And what you are doing got us into that position in the first place."

"Complaining?"

"Only if you stop now."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he smirked and brushed his hands over more interesting places. What he encountered there, however, felt a little odd and reflexively he switched the lights on.

And stared.

And stared some more.

And smirked.

"Hello, wench."

"Hello, Zorro."

* * *

"Boyd?"

Startled, he shrugged out of his daydream and stared into the concerned faces of his co-workers. "What?"

"You're sleeping on the job, sir," Stella told him carefully.

"And you are snoring," Spencer added with a grin.

"I know that a wench-costume isn't the most interesting pieces of evidence ever, Boyd, but the sooner you join us, the sooner we get done with it," Eve complained.

Apologetically, Boyd nodded and resettled himself in his chair, noticing with a bit of trepidation that not every trace of his dream was gone. And if Grace just turned a bit and then looked down...

Looking at her, he found Grace giving him an intense look that was half amused and half embarrassed. "Must have been some dream," she whispered and gestured to his...problem.

"Yeah" He smirked. "It had you in that wench costume."

Grace pulled back, startled, the blush deepening. "Very funny," she drawled.

Leaning over, he whispered in her ear, making sure she felt every breath he exhaled against her skin. "Come over for a drink tonight and I'll tell you all about my Zorro-costume."

She stared, a shiver that he could very well feel rushing through her. "Is that a trick or a treat?" she murmured huskily.

Grinning, he traced her hand with his fingertips. "That's for me to know and for you to find out."

* * *

Thank you for reading. Comments are greatly appreciated.


End file.
